Di-damn, Ree thought.
Jane smiled at Ree. “Great work today. Do you like sushi?”
“Sure,” Ree said, wondering if she’d missed the start of the conversation. Ree gestured at Jane’s outfit. “If that’s the dress code, I’m a little underprepared.”
Jane shook her head. “You’ll be fine. Those glasses with that outfit mean you totally own the artist look. But if you want, feel free to raid my closet.” Jane pointed over her head to a closed door near the hallway-that-goes-to-a-bedroom part of the trailer.
Ree scratched her chin in an exaggerated gesture and made for the closet. She opened the door, and when she saw the assortment, her brain’s jukebox played the you just opened a treasure chest stock music from a dozen games, triumph and discovery in all the majesty of MIDI.
She started at the bottom, looking past what must have been tens of thousands of dollars’ worth of shoes and boots, with heels that started at two inches and went up from there, all the way to a set of boots that she was pretty sure should be classified as stilts.
From there, she saw a small pile of designer jeans, most artfully distressed, with washes from light-dark-blue to blacker-than-obsidian. And most of the closet was taken up by a small army of hangers and a rainbow of tops and skirts.
Ree took a moment to appreciate the Warehouse 23 of clothes before her, then realized she probably shouldn’t stare. She scanned through the tops for a few seconds and pulled out a couple of pieces she thought would work. Ree didn’t have Jane’s curves, but they were close enough in stature that it should work. Plus $300 tops looked good on nearly everyone.
Turning, Ree held them up to Jane, eyebrow raised. Jane nodded. “Bathroom is the first door on the right.”
You could be getting yourself into trouble, kiddo, a voice in her head warned. It’s one thing to sell scripts to hot, self-destructive movie stars. It’s another to dine with them when they’re dressed to kill.
Ree walked to the restroom and flipped on the light as she closed the door. The inside of the door had a full mirror, which she used to try on the tops. The first was a loose, gauzy, and sheer white top. The size worked, since it was intentionally big, but the fact that it showed Ree’s bra did not.
Luckily, Jane had another shirt of the same cut, but in red. Much less with the here’s my bra effect.
Ree adjusted the shirt, fiddled with her hair, and stopped as she looked at herself in the mirror.
What am I primping for? A dinner with my employer? Clubbing with a movie star? Or a first date with a known hot mess?
Ree had the Advanced Gaydar feat (+5 bonus), but that didn’t actually ever help her in figuring out if a woman was actually interested in her. That was still a moving target of a Sense Motive check. Guys were usually really freaking obvious, at least to her (DC 10 or less). Some women were just as obvious, thankfully.
But between the heterosexual default setting that society tried to inflict on everyone, the normalized feminine homosociality that comes with it, and the celebrities-make-their-own-rules factor, Ree had no fucking clue where she stood (DC 40).
So just go have dinner and see what happens. It’s not like a Schrödinger’s date with a movie star would be more dangerous than chasing were-suited monsters down alleyways, fighting off feral gnomes with a tanto, or dogfighting through high-rises while desperately trying not to look down.
Leather up.
Ree took a long breath, tucked her hair over her ear, and opened the door.
Jane was holding a snifter of booze in her hand, and took a sip as Ree emerged.
Jane’s smile carried more than a hint of sultry. “Very nice. Care for a pregame?” Jane offered the glass.
Ree shook her head as she crossed the hall back into the living area, wall-mounted entertainment center to her right, along with a Comfy Couch™ and love seat.
“You have a place in mind?”
They continued through the room, past a kitchenette and small round table with chairs posh enough that they’d scoff at anything from Pier 1. Jane said, “I’ve heard that Yoritomo’s is good.”
“I’ve heard it is,” Ree said, nodding. “It’s also a little rich for my barkeep-and-baby-screenwriter blood.” Ree focused on opening the door in front of her, a bit embarrassed to have to admit her near-bankruptcy to the star as she stepped down out of the trailer.
“Not for mine.” Jane took a swig of her drink as her heels touched down on the concrete of the alley. The star offered Ree her arm, which she took.
“Just be warned that I’ve been known to run up a pretty good bar tab,” Ree said. Though should I be enabling the woman who got three DUIs in a month?
No, I don’t want to answer that.
Jane nodded. “Not too much, though. We both have to work tomorrow.”
Ree matched Jane’s nod hastily. “Of course, but, well, in general.” Jane’s flop back to professional mode broke Ree’s rhythm, and she felt like she was back in college, her early years of endless awkwardness.
As they approached the street, Ree looked over her shoulder to see Danny following behind.
“Shouldn’t we wait for him?” she asked.
“I think I can handle a cab ride with company. He’ll catch up. Plus, I remember from your bio that you have a black belt.”
“Touché,” Ree admitted.
Less than ten seconds after the pair reached Douglas Street, a cab pulled up and stopped.
Let’s hear it for fame, Ree thought as Jane opened the door to slide in. Ree joined her as Jane said, “Yoritomo’s, please.”
Ree closed the door behind her, seeing Danny walk at a slow, confident pace, his hand up for another cab. Ree felt a bit bad for him, having to alternate between demanding lots of attention to warding people off or hiding in plain sight, all at Jane’s whims.
Note to self: Cross bodyguarding off of list of fall-back professions.
P.S. You will probably have to do this anyway. Since, you know: Magic, crazy people, monsters, etc.
Jane cleared her throat, and Ree looked back at the star, confused.
“Sorry?”
“I asked how you were liking the job so far,” Jane said.
“Ah, sorry. My brain decided to take a joyride for a minute.”
Jane leaned back in the seat, a warm smile on her face.
“It’s awesome. Watching Yancy in action is pretty amazing. And I’ve been fans of pretty much the whole cast since I was a kid.”
“Way to make me feel old,” Jane said.
“But you’re like my age.”
“Does that make me wrong, or does that make you old?”
“Let’s plead the fifth,” Ree said.
They chatted amicably for a few minutes until the cabbie deposited them at the restaurant.
Yoritomo’s was named for Minamoto no Yoritomo, founder of the Kamakura Shogunate. Ree liked to think it was named for the Legend of the Five Rings Mantis Clan Champion, but the restaurant’s distinct lack of giant kama meant it was probably just wishful thinking on her part.
Jane walked in like she owned the place as an eager-looking East Asian young woman held open the door for the two of them.
“Welcome to Yoritomo’s,” the woman said. She stopped for a moment, presumably recognizing Jane.
Jane gave her a generous smile and said, “Thank you,” as they entered.
The restaurant had all the stock artifacts of a P.F. Chang’s, but from Japan instead of China. And about five times as spendy. The suit of armor in a display case in the lobby looked about as expensive as the prize at Grognard’s from last night.
Ree had a momentary twinge of guilt. Before the Awakenings deal had come through, she’d spent many of her nights off patrolling, Batman-style. She’d tried to keep her finger on the city’s magical pulse. But now, she had other priorities.
T
he city got by without Ree Reyes, Geekomancer, before last fall, so it could deal for a few weeks. Drake was somewhere mysterious, and Eastwood had been in Thunderbolts-level Redemption Mode since Halloween.
Enjoy the ride, she told herself.
Jane sauntered up to the hostess, the same eager young woman who’d held the door open. She had her hair back and loose over a kimono-inspired black shirt with short sleeves.
“We’d like a table for two. Somewhere private, if possible. And a table for my bodyguard.”
The woman had a really-well-dressed deer in headlights moment, looking at Jane, down to her board, back to Jane, then over her shoulder. Ree followed the woman’s gaze and saw Danny standing in wait. He gave her a quick nod of acknowledgment.
The hostess considered Danny for a moment as he took up a casual stance. She scanned out the room, looked down at her table plan, then said, “Just . . . just one moment, Ms. Konrad.” The woman left in a hurry, crisp steps echoing on the polished tiles.
“Do you get that reaction everywhere?”
Jane shrugged. “Pearson isn’t quite like L.A., at least not yet. When I go incognito, I can sometimes act like a person, but even then, I usually just get outed by paparazzi and then there are a ton of bad pictures of me all across the tabloids.”
“Damned if you do, damned if you don’t,” Ree said.
“Yeah, but at least it comes with embarrassing stacks of money that can make good things happen . . . at least when the work is flowing.”
Jane had signed on to several projects since her self-implosion, but dropped out of each of them, citing “creative differences” or “health concerns.” But Ree wasn’t about to pry about that, at least not yet.
Several other people walked into the restaurant, and each and every one of them stopped for a second when they recognized Jane. She nodded to them politely, while Danny kept them all in his gaze, nonthreatening but clearly present. One group had a fourteen-ish-year-old girl who walked up to the star and said, “I loved you in Mermaid High School!” The smile that inspired was broader, warmer, more genuine. The girl couldn’t have been more than two when Mermaid High School was canceled, but thanks to the wonders of DVD, all shows were eternal.
Ree faded back, letting Jane deal with the attention. I don’t really need any of this fame-by-association, not unless the show actually lands and does well.
She leaned over to Danny and asked in a soft voice, “Any last-minute advice for chatting with the boss?”
“Stay away from the bad luck she’s been having and you’ll fine. Don’t worry, she likes you.”
“Thanks, man.” Feeling just a bit less nervous, Ree stepped back to join Jane when the girl returned to her family.
The hostess guided them through the restaurant, around and through until they reached a private room, closed in by rice-paper sliding walls. What are those called? Ree wondered.
The room had five tables, all empty. The hostess set them up at a small circular table for two, and Danny crossed several tables over to sit at another two-top by himself.
Ree considered asking Danny to join them, but thought better of it. If she wanted him to sit with us, she would have asked. And he’s on the clock. The Upstairs Downstairs of it all was more than a little uncomfortable. Deal with it or ignore it. Focus on the movie star that thinks you’re interesting.
Jane settled in and the hostess presented them with the faux-worn scroll menus. She rattled off some specials, but Ree was busy thinking about the script and questions Jane might have as a way of distracting herself from being nervous that this might turn out being a date.
The hostess was walking over to Danny as Jane said, “So, how about we just get one of these daimyo platters and have fun with it?”
Ree looked at her menu, then up at the star. “Sure, sounds good.”
“And some sake. I hate eating sushi without sake. And those bottles are awesome.”
“I’m game. So what did you want to talk about for the show?” Ree asked.
Jane waved her hand through the air, brushing off the question. “That was just an excuse to go out. I want to hear more about you. Are you still bartending?”
Ree nodded. “Yeah, it’s a private club. The owner’s really secretive, but it pays pretty well and it’s a fun scene.”
Ree heard someone approach as Jane continued. “Sounds great. I’d love to go sometime, if it’d be allowed.”
“I’ll check with the boss. He has . . .” Ree paused as she tried to think of a way to explain Grognard and his place that didn’t spoil everything about her whacky magic life, failed, and defaulted to the vague. “. . . odd tastes. Not creepy, just odd.”
A woman appeared to Ree’s left. She was short-ish, with delicate features. She looked more Chinese than Japanese, but then again, one of the other servers they’d passed had been tall and blonde, so it was all good. She wore her hair back and up, held in place by jade chopsticks.
“Welcome to Yoritomo’s, Ms. Konrad. I’m Susan, I’ll be taking care of you, but let any of our staff know if you need anything. Will you be having sushi tonight?”
“The daimyo platter, please. And we’d like a bottle of White Crane.”
Susan looked over to Ree, then back to Jane. “Will that be all?”
“Good by me,” Ree said.
“That’ll be great, thanks.”
Susan nodded and then walked over to Danny’s table, repeating her spiel.
Jane picked up the conversation just where they’d left it. “Your boss sounds like an interesting guy. I’m sure he could be convinced to make room for little old me. We could do guerrilla marketing.”
Ree raised her hands placatingly. “I’ll ask. He’s prickly. But I am definitely getting word out to everyone I know. My dad threatened to fly out and watch a day of taping.”
Jane beamed. “That’d be great, he should totally come.”
So where’s the self-destructiveness?
Ree had spent time with Jane on and off camera, and she didn’t sense any of the kind of behavior that had gotten the star spreads on all the tabloids with horribly unflattering photos and DUI and Drunk & Disorderly charges. Maybe the booze would bring it out. But then why did she preempt the drinking by talking about how they had to be good?
It’s almost like she was a complex person who behaves in a variety of ways depending on her decisions in the moment. Madness!
“I’m not sure you know what you’re asking for. I love him to death, but he could medal in parental embarrassment. It’s really impressive.”
They continued on throughout the dinner, Jane poking and prodding (with good humor) at Ree’s life, a gracious and curious interviewer. Ree turned things around a couple of times, hearing stories about Jane’s early acting work and some horror stories from movie sets. They got louder as the sake poured, and Ree lost count of how much sushi she’d put away. Between the two of them, they’d demolished most of a twenty-four-piece platter.
Jane polished off the last of the sake and said, “So, you up for some dancing?”
“What happened to ‘We have to work tomorrow’?” Ree asked.
The star waved off her question. “I’ll be fine. If you can’t keep up, then you’ll miss out on the fun.”
Ree scoffed. “I have a +10 to Save vs. Peer Pressure, I’ll have you know.”
“Save what?” Jane asked.
“Never mind.”
Not that kind of geek. Noted.
“Don’t worry, I’ll have you home before midnight, Cinderella,” Jane said.
Susan returned with the check. Jane slipped the server a black-on-black credit card that looked like the Mega-Elite-Bonus-Person card that George Clooney’s character had in Up in the Air.
Once they settled up, Danny shadowed them as they left Yoritomo’s. It was a warm night, the heat of the day lingering far bett
er than it had even two weeks previous.
“So, do I have to twist your arm again?” Jane asked as she walked to the street to grab a cab’s attention. Moments later, a cab pulled up to the sidewalk.
Ree asked, “How do you do that?”
Jane winked. “Magic.”
Danny opened the door and kept an eye on the crowd.
A Police song started playing in Ree’s head, but she cut it off before the earworm could take hold. Not every little thing . . . Ree wondered as she piled into the cab.
This trip, Danny joined them in the same cab.
“Infinity Club, please,” Jane said.
The cabbie leaned over his shoulder. He had burned-brown skin, his face showing the results of years of too much sun. “You’re Jane Konrad.”
Danny leaned forward. “That she is. Be discreet, and you’ll have a great tip at the end of the ride.”
The cabbie considered for a second, then turned back to the road. “We’re cool. Nice night for a drive.”
“When we get there, follow my lead,” Danny said to Ree. “This could get interesting.”
Jane said, “A fancy restaurant is one thing. Where I have in mind, there will be a lot more attention.”
Ree said, “I’ve survived the crowds at Comic-Con, I can handle a club full of fans.”
“I’m not worried about the fans,” Danny said, his carefree expression gone. It was game time.
“It’ll be fine,” Jane said with a self-satisfied grin. “Plus, a little transitive fame can’t hurt your career, can it?”
True story. It could be a huge bonus for her screenwriting. And she was already running the risk of becoming some weird walking talisman, a Geekomancer who could also become a famous writer.
For that matter, that brought up the possibility that if the show hit it big, she might be able to use Geekomancy with her own writing.
That was a scary-awesome thought. What if Joss Whedon, Felicia Day, or, hell, George Lucas and Steven Spielberg, were Geekomancers? What if the iconic films of geekdom were iconic as much for the fact that they were created by practitioners?
Celebromancy Page 4
